I'll Be Home For Christmas
by Foreverfirstloves
Summary: DE Christmas Oneshot. Damon spends Christmas Eve with Elena, but not exactly in a conventional way. Slight AU. Written for the Delena Fandom Award on Twitter.


**Hey guys!  
**

 **So I wrote this for the DelenaFandomAwards on Twitter. Hope ya'll enjoy!**

 **All you need to know really is that it takes place in S7, during the episode "Cold as Ice" but it deviates from canon a little, so a slight AU.  
I'm ignoring the little bit with the hellstone lol.**

 **Also, the song Christmas Lights, by Coldplay is used, and inspired this fic.**

 **Listen to it if you can!**

* * *

 **Disclaimer: I don't own TVD. I wish I owned Damon ;)**

* * *

Mystic Falls wasn't known for holding back on it's holiday festivities, and Christmas was no exception.

Everywhere you turned there were fake snowflakes, lights, trees, reindeer, Santas, and the whole jolly good lot of "tis the season".

Bells chimed and songs played from the passing stores that were still open, with as late as it was.

Damon finished downing his bottle of bourbon, cursing the entirety of it.

He had tried distracting himself all day by helping Stefan hunt down Julian, but that had only postponed the inevitable and landed him on the piss end of his brother's self righteous stick, yet again.

Not that the thought really bothered him.

Hell it didn't seem as if he was doing anything right these days anyway, why should he care if Stefan was pissed at him?

He didn't.

He didn't care what Stefan thought about him, he didn't care that their mother was dead, and he didn't care that it was Christmas Eve and he had absolutely nowhere to be and no one to be with.

What he did care about was the fact that he was now out of bourbon.

* * *

Letting out an annoyed "Hmph" he tossed the bottle into a nearby garbage can, and debated about heading back to the Boarding House to raid his plentiful stash.

The only problem with that plan was that he didn't want to go home.

The walls echoed with the silence that burrowed through the place, a constant reminder of just how alone he was.

Sure, maybe Stefan would be back later, but did he really want to get into another argument tonight?

Not really.

He sighed and fell down onto a bench, just off the sidewalk.

The cold had driven most of the townspeople in doors, so he didn't even have to pretend to be anything but what he was.

And what was he, exactly?

Annoyed? Pissed? Miserable?

Yeah...that was the word for it. Miserable. And he'd been that way for a while now.

Two hundred and seven days to be exact.

Since he'd said goodbye to the only person in the world who seemed to give a damn about him.

He smirked, a little bitterly, thinking of the lecture he'd be getting from her now if she could see him.

Alone, in the cold, on Christmas Eve, and drunk to top it off.

But of course, if she was here, he'd have no reason to be any of those things.

She'd make sure of it.

* * *

Elena loved Christmas.

Not that she'd really been given the chance to celebrate a happy one in the past few years.

She'd lost so many people, then had to deal with Klaus, becoming a vampire, the fucking sire bond, Silas and the Augustine mess, Kai, and now this sleeping beauty coma.

How was it fair that life had robbed her of so much, and still continued to take?

Elena deserved happiness more than anyone.

He hated to think of how many more Christmases she would have to miss before she got it.

And when she woke up...it wouldn't even be the same.

The last of her family would be gone, and she was never going to truly be happy with that, was she?

He wished he could trade places with her.

He would sleep for a thousand years if that meant she could have the life she deserved, with the people she loved.

He also knew she would spend the time better than he ever could.

No, Elena wouldn't be moping around a town that hardly even cared of her existence, wasting the holiday with a bottle.

She'd be living her life, making her friends smile over hot chocolate and the frilliest wrapping paper she could find.

Damon smiled, picturing it.

Elena was the heart and soul of them all, and the lone beam of light to his otherwise bleak future.

God, how long did it really take sixty years to pass?

Without Elena, too damn long.

* * *

He exhaled, and as the warmth of his breath turned to vapor in the air, he let his mind wander.

Did Bonnie really need an entire six decades to complete her life?

Hell, she was already at two, wouldn't another three or four suffice to an adequate amount of time?

He could wait that long with much more ease.

But then of course, the whole point of Elena's sacrifice would be moot.

She wanted her friend to have it all. All the love and happiness and moments this life offered, until it ended on its own natural terms.

Damon knew he should want that too, and felt only the tiniest bit guilty that Elena wanting it was all that was keeping him from going to find Bonnie right now.

He'd probably hate himself for even thinking about hurting his friend, tomorrow.

But tonight?

Tonight he couldn't bring himself to care.

Because if Bonnie wasn't here, Elena would be, and that was all he wanted.

It felt worth hating himself for.

But it wasn't worth having Elena hate him for, and he had to respect what she wanted; even if he resented the choice.

* * *

God, when had he gone and become Stefan?

Because a few years ago, this wouldn't have mattered to him.

" _If it comes down to you and the Bennett witch, I will gladly let Bonnie die. I will always choose you."_

He'd meant those words with everything he had, when he'd spoken them.

They'd echoed in his mind again, when Kai had told him the stipulation to wake Elena up, taunting him.

The old him would have let Bonnie die in a heartbeat so that Elena could live her life.

But the old him wasn't friends with Bonnie.

And the old him hadn't actually experienced Elena loving him.

There was nothing he would do to risk that love.

* * *

So he would sit here, alone on this bench, trying with every fiber of his being not to fuck up too badly before it was time for her to wake up.

He wanted her to have something good to come back to, something deserving of her.

He closed his eyes and pictured her face, her smile, and tried to imagine what their future would be like.

He would marry her.

Without a doubt in his mind, he knew that he would.

And he would give her children, a family; as many as she wanted, once they were both human.

Maybe he would actually like Christmas then.

A bittersweet sort of pain clenched Damon's chest as he let his imagination stretch further, to some point in the far future, when all of this was behind them and they had their happiness.

He imagined a family.

Convincing his children to go to sleep so that Santa would leave them presents, then going to help Elena set said presents under the tree.

He imagined holding her at night, and waking up early to watch their kids open their toys.

She would be happy, and he would be happy because of that.

His stomach flipped and something pricked at the corner of his eye.

Tears.

Swallowing hard, he wiped them away and forced himself to take a few ragged breaths.

Then he stood, because what good was sitting out here, wallowing?

But then, he didn't really have anywhere else to be, did he?

Because the only place he really wanted to go didn't yet exist.

Home to Elena.

 _Elena_.

* * *

Suddenly, every other thought left his mind, and Damon pulled out his cell phone.

He knew exactly how he was going to spend the night.

Dialing a number, he waited impatiently as the line began to ring.

Finally, it was answered.

"Lockwood," he started, "I need a favor."

* * *

It had taken him a few hours and over a grand dropped on a plane ticket, but Damon had made it.

New York.

They'd stashed Elena's coffin in a warehouse in Brooklyn.

Seriously?

But at least the location was remote and the security was admirable.

She was safe here.

He typed in the code Tyler had given him, after some threatening persuasion, and lifted the sliding door with some effort.

The clanking noise reverberated through the air, but the sight before him drowned it out.

It was here; she was here.

The dark wood of her coffin was exactly as he'd last seen it, and the sight of it had his legs shaking.

He found a light, then pulled the door back down, closing them off from the rest of the world, before walking over to her.

His hand brushed over the casket's polished finish, and he battled with himself.

They had said their goodbyes.

It was cruel to do this, both for her and for him, because the next lifetime was going to stretch on infinitely more painful if he couldn't figure out how to live without her.

But he was half drunk, and lonely, and he couldn't help himself.

So without any further delay, Damon exhaled slowly and lifted the casket's top.

* * *

No Christmas display in the world could ever shine with the beauty that Elena emitted.

She was perfection.

Even laying unconscious atop the satin, she took his breath away.

His hands took on a mind of their own, reaching over to feel her skin.

He touched her cheek with the back of his knuckles, the same as he had the first night he'd ever visited her bedroom.

Maybe if he tried hard enough, he could pretend that she was just asleep.

That any moment now, she was going to wake up and he would get lost in her brown eyes before she stole his heart with a loving smile.

He didn't try to stop the tears now as they began to run down his cheeks.

What was the point?

"I miss you," he whispered thickly, brushing her hair back with his fingers, "I miss you so damn much."

And as his thumb swept over her cheek, he decided to let go of the ledge and to give himself this one night with her.

He needed it.

His palm came against the side of her face, and Damon closed his eyes, reaching out with his mind until his sense of everything else disappeared completely.

* * *

When his eyes opened, he was no longer in the warehouse, or even in New York, but in his bedroom at the boarding house.

And he wasn't alone.

"I was wondering how long it was going to take for you to break the rules."

Her voice was a dream, easing parts of him he'd long forgot were in pain, "Elena?"

He turned around in the sheets and sure enough, there she was, just as beautiful as he remembered.

There was a miniature smile on her lips, and her hair hung in bed messed waves around her face.

He was momentarily starstruck, his mouth opening but unable to form any word other than her name.

Then she reached over, placing her hand against his cheek, and his body melted at the touch.

"How long has it been?" she asked quietly.

His eyes shot to hers, and he realized that her perception of time would probably be a lot different, given that she was unconscious.

But she knew the situation.

"I love you," he said, instead of answering her right away, because he didn't want the first words he'd spoken to her in months to be a reminder of the number of years ahead of them.

Her face softened, and he would have sworn that there weren't angels more beautiful than this woman.

"Damon..." she urged gently.

"A few months," he swallowed, "And they've been hell without you."

Her thumb brushed over his skin, and she moved forward so that she was in his arms, "I'm sorry."

A humorless laugh escaped him, "Of course you are. You're too selfless for your own good."

She smiled a little, and he pulled back to stare at her face.

The problem would come when he'd have to force himself to stop staring.

"We're still in my head," she confirmed, and when he nodded, she sighed, "How long do we have?"

"Tonight," Damon answered, "I just didn't want to spend Christmas without you."

Her brows drew together, "It's Christmas?"

"Christmas Eve," he elaborated.

She nodded, "Did Bonnie break the spell on the crypt for you?"

"Not exactly," he admitted, "Some things have changed since we last talked...but don't worry. You're safe. And tonight, I'm with you."

Thankfully, she didn't ask him for any more of an explanation.

Like him, he doubted she wanted to waste the time they had by bringing her up to speed on the nasty details of reality.

There would be plenty of time for that once she was awake for real.

* * *

Instead, Elena flipped them so that she hovered over him and her gaze held his own, "I'm sorry, Damon."

He swallowed, "What for?"

"You're here. Wherever here is out there in the real world. Which means you have nowhere else to be, and it's Christmas. I don't want you to be alone."

"I'm not alone, and there's nowhere else I want to be," he assured her, reaching up to touch her hair, "Besides, if I'm going to get through these next few decades without you, I need tonight. I need to have something to remember and to look forward to."

Her eyes searched his face, then slowly, she nodded and relaxed, "Alright then. If it's Christmas, and all we have is tonight, and we're in my head, let's make it count."

She jumped up from the bed then, wearing nothing but a tank top and underwear, and was bounding toward the door before he could react.

"Are you coming?" she called from the hall, and with a smile, Damon pulled himself up as well and followed her.

* * *

The scenery around him seemed to change with Elena's thoughts, because even as he walked down the halls, they became adorned with all things Christmas.

Gold and Silver, reds, greens, tinsel, ornaments, wreaths, holly, and everything in between sparked to life around him.

Elena had stopped in the living room, where a fire was roaring and an enormous tree stood off to the right, finely decorated.

"Now that's more like it," she smiled, turning to look at him as she did so.

Damon smirked a little and with the flick of his mind, had music playing in the background.

He held out his hand in an offering, and Elena's grin broadened.

"Well, it is tradition," she teased, repeating her words from the Mikaelson ball, so many lifetimes ago.

He took her hand and pulled her body against his, just elated to be able to hold her again, and moved them to the beat of the music.

 _I took my feet to Oxford Street, trying to right a wrong.  
_ _"Just walk away," those windows say, but I can't believe she's gone.  
_ _When you're still waiting for the snow to fall, it doesn't really feel like Christmas at all._

Elena's arms tightened around his middle and he rested his head on top of hers, brushing his lips against her hair occasionally.

He wanted more than anything to kiss her properly, but he refrained, needing to draw this night out as long as possible.

 _Up above candles on air flicker, oh they flicker and they flow.  
And I am up here holding on to all those chandeliers of hope.  
And like some drunken Elvis singing, I go singing out of tune.  
_ _Singing how I've always loved you, darling, and I always will._

"I love you," Elena whispered against his shoulder, "And I'm glad you're here."

Damon closed his eyes, just breathing her in, "Me too, baby. Me too."

It would kill him tomorrow, but for now...for tonight, she was in his arms.

That was the only thing that mattered.

 _May all your troubles soon be gone, oh Christmas lights, keep shining on.  
Those Christmas lights light up the street, maybe they'll bring her back to me.  
Then all my troubles will be gone, oh Christmas lights, keep shining on._

* * *

As they danced, Damon was reminded of their first night together.

The first night Elena had slept in his bed, in his arms...it too had started with a dance like this.

Emotional. Intimate.

Elena's mind must have been aligned with his, because her head retracted just enough to look up at his face, and he could read the intent in those chocolate pools.

So slowly, he took his hand from her waist and touched the base of her throat.

Her eyes closed as his fingers drifted up to her jaw, her lips parting slightly.

He burned this particular moment into his mind, knowing he would need it to get him through the dark days ahead, before finally leaning down to close the space between them.

Elena's lips were as soft and silk-like as they'd always been, but her hands were suddenly fire, grabbing him as if to make sure he would never let her go.

Every inch of her body pressed into his, and he let his arms wrap around her, drawing her impossibly closer.

He craved her taste like addict with it's fix, and couldn't fight the need to take her any longer.

Not that they'd ever been good at slow anyway.

* * *

He picked her up into his arms and brought them to the couch.

From there it was practice of habit, removing each others clothes as quickly as possible until there was nothing left to separate them.

Elena straddled his lap, taking full advantage of this fact, before they were finally joined together.

She sheathed him easily, drawing a moan from his throat as she sank down onto him over and over.

He'd missed her touch so much; missed everything about her.

Their lips came together in a rush, trying to take as much as possible, feel as much as possible from one another, knowing it would never be enough.

Damon moved them to the floor, on the rug in front of the fireplace.

The cliche of it would have irked him if it wasn't for the fact that the moment was too perfect to ruin with a snide comment.

So he let it go and focused on his girl.

Their legs intertwined as he thrusted into her, and he forced himself to set a pace.

Tonight wasn't about the end results.

It was about being together, loving each other.

So he made love to her, until the only thing that existed was the two of them, and the warmth of the fire on their skin.

* * *

When it was over, they ended up back on the couch.

Damon had found a thick blanket to drape over them, and now they laid together, curled up and content.

The peace that settled inside his chest made him want to tear up again, but he wasn't about to waste the time he had with Elena by being selfish.

"You can do this, you know," she murmured, after a moment of silence.

His hand, which had been stroking her back, paused, "I appreciate the confidence, even if I don't quite share it."

She smiled; he felt the pull of her facial muscles against his chest, and lifted her head to look at him, "You can. You're going to survive this. We both are."

"We always survive," he repeated, brushing the back of his knuckles over her cheek.

"Exactly," she said thickly, "Our track record is pretty good so far."

He chuckled dryly, "Says the girl in a magical coma who's died multiple times to a guy who was shot to death and has had his neck snapped several times since. Surviving may not actually be our strong suit."

"Yes it is," she insisted, propping herself up on her arms, "Because nothing has ever stopped us from coming back to each other. Vampirism, the sire bond, the Universe, the prison world, this spell...we've overcome everything that's ever come between us. This won't be any different."

"You and your Gilbert optimism," he teased.

"Something has to balance your pessimism," she countered, "It's why we're perfect for each other."

She kissed him again then, and he wanted it to be easier to believe her than to argue the point, but his doubts were screaming too loud.

"What if I can't," he whispered against her lips.

"Can't what?" she asked, leaning away.

Damon sighed, "What if I screw it up? What if I mess up so bad that you can't forgive me. There's so much darkness without you, Elena...what if I disappoint you?"

A saddened look crossed her expression, but thankfully her gaze held no pity.

"I believe in you," she told him, "And there's nothing you can do that would stop me from loving you...but I know you, Damon."

She rested her forehead against his, "You love me more than anything. I know that. You'll do the right thing, for me. And for you. So that when this is all over, we'll have the life that we wanted. Human together, with marriage and kids and whatever else we choose because we'll have the freedom to do it. I know how hard it is for you, but I trust you to protect our future. You can do this. For us."

Her faith in him was, as always, astounding in its absolution.

And she was right, wasn't she?

He would find a way to make it through this, for her sake.

He'd make sure she was able to wake up to a good life, the one she deserved to have, and it would be perfect.

That's what they were surviving for.

* * *

"Do you want to see what I see?" Elena asked him, sitting up.

As if he was going to deny her a single thing right now, "Sure."

She smile a little and closed her eyes; Damon forced himself to do the same.

The air around them changed, not uncomfortably, but enough that he realized they were somewhere different.

He waited until Elena squeezed his hand before opening his eyes though, and glanced around.

They were fully clothed now, and standing in some hallway.

"What is this?" he asked.

Elena smiled again, "Our home. Or at least, the way I see it in my head."

He nodded slightly, and she gripped his hand, "Come here. I'll show you what's waiting for us."

Damon allowed her to pull him down the hall, to a short flight of stairs.

The house was a decent size, and mostly quiet until they reached the landing at the bottom of the stairway.

Small giggles filled the air, and he hesitated.

"Elena-"

"It's okay," she assured him, "You need this."

Unable to argue, he just gave another nod and followed her with heavy steps towards what appeared to be the living room.

* * *

Christmas had followed them here as well, the only difference being the two little bodies that were laying next to the tree, observing the presents beneath it.

A little girl with curly hair that fell down her back, and a younger boy whose bright blue eyes reflected back the lights shining in them.

It was clear who they were in Elena's mind.

Damon moved his eyes from them to her and she stepped closer to him, wrapping her arms around his middle.

"This is what I want," she told him quietly, "A family with you. Stupid traditions that we have fun doing...just a good, simple life. And if we can just get through this, we'll have it Damon. We'll be happy and you'll never be alone again."

She said this last part fiercely, because of everyone in his life, Elena knew him best.

Elena knew just how well he handled loneliness; she knew how abandoned he'd always felt, and she, with her big, compassionate heart had always been sure to make sure he knew how important he was to her.

That he mattered.

Swallowing hard, he took her face in his hands and kissed her.

"I love you," he whispered softly.

"I love you."

He held her, their foreheads pressed together, bodies as close as possible, and the moment stretched on and on.

He knew this was it.

This is where the night ended and they would have to say goodbye, but even with that inevitable pain looming, he felt the peace that her comfort offered.

Elena was all he ever wanted; and he would do right by her.

* * *

"You have to go," she guessed when he began to slowly pull away.

He nodded solemnly, "I wish I could stay. But if I do, I'll never be able to convince myself to leave."

"I know," she sighed, pushing back the ends of his hair with her fingers, "And you need to. I want you to go out there and live. Find a way to be at least a little happy until we can be together again."

"I'll try," he promised, "But without you…"

"I"m always with you," she told him, "Always...and hey, since apparently I'm not spelled into a crypt anymore, maybe we can do this next Christmas too?"

Damon chuckled a little, trying to ignore the tears that were beginning to form in both of their eyes.

Damn, he didn't want to leave her.

"I like that idea. Something to break up the monotony."

She giggled quietly and he drank in the sound as if it were top dollar bourbon.

"I'll be seeing you soon then," he vowed, "We'll spend Christmas together here until we can actually celebrate out there."

Elena kissed him again, hard and sure, letting her lips linger when it ended, "I love you, Damon."

The words couldn't be said enough, but their time was up.

This was their goodbye.

"You're my life, Elena Gilbert. You always will be. I love you."

A final kiss.

"I'll see you soon."

* * *

Mystic Falls was quiet on Christmas morning.

People were off work, probably at home with their families, and all the shops and stores were closed up for the day.

The boarding house was also silent, omitting the sound of Damon Salvatore's boots crunching across the half frozen ground as he made his way up to the front door.

He let himself in and shed his coat after closing the door behind him.

Pacing upstairs hinted that his brother may of come home after all, but he'd worry about that later.

Right now, he planned on keeping to his newly formed plan.

A plan that involved sticking to the straight and narrow while simultaneously doing everything within his power to make sure Elena had the absolute best life to wake up to.

He had a ring to pick out, a house to buy, a trip across Europe to map through, and sixty years to make sure it would be perfect.

As hard as walking away from Elena had been, knowing that he would be seeing her again in just three hundred and sixty five days made it bearable.

And seeing her had been worth it.

He had finally been able to quiet the noise in his head that screamed of his inadequacy, and his purpose had been renewed.

He could do this. They would survive.

* * *

A throat cleared from the entrance way, and Damon turned toward the sound.

Stefan stood there, leaning against the door jam, that ever brooding expression on his face.

"Do you really think Christmas Eve was the best time for you to go off on a bender? You do realize that Julian is probably going to come looking for us, right?"

"Relax, brother," he said, lifting his hands, "I'm not drunk."

"There's a first."

Damon rolled his eyes, "Are you going to mope, or are you going to tell me your plan? I'm assuming you have one."

Stefan's brows furrowed in confusion, "You mean you'll help me?"

"I know. It's a Christmas Day miracle."

"Why?"

Damon sighed, "Because I want this to be over. Julian's a threat and that doesn't really work for me anymore."

Clearly confused, Stefan stared at him, as if waiting for further explanation.

"Let's just say I visited the ghost of Christmas future, and I don't want anything or anyone around that might obstruct this very far off, slim possibility of hope for happiness, alright? So what's the plan?"

Stefan still didn't seem convinced, but stepped further into the room and launched into an idea about kidnapping one of the heretics to force Julian's hand, and strategies on how to separate him from that nifty sword and the likes.

All in all, it wasn't bad.

Damon just hoped it was over with soon, so he could get back to the things that mattered.

"You got it?" Stefan asked, as if sensing his mind had wandered.

He forced a smirk and pulled himself back from ideas of what to do for Elena next Christmas.

Just because it would be in her head didn't mean he couldn't plan something for her.

"Yup," he answered, "Sneak, stab, steal, kill. Got it."

His brother wasn't as amused, but Damon hardly cared.

They'd get rid of Julian, then he'd only have three hundred and sixty four more days until he would see Elena again.

Mistletoe...he would definitely have to remember to include mistletoe.

* * *

 **So that's that lol.**

 **A little bitter sweet Christmas Delena :)**

 **Let me know what you thought!**


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